


You're Safe

by amadscientistapproaches



Series: Werewolf AU [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Comfort, Gen, MUST PROTECT THE PUPPERS, Maybel 2018, Stan is a big fluff, Werewolf AU, a bit of swearing sorry, because Stan is STRESSED, but still werewoofer au, monthofmaybel2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-04-26 06:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14396082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amadscientistapproaches/pseuds/amadscientistapproaches
Summary: Mabel goes downstairs to fetch some water. Stan loses track of how late it is. The full moon rises.Written for Maybel 2018, Week 2: Comfort.





	You're Safe

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by some art of Werewolf!Stan by siriuslyart on Tumblr.

With the kids over it was becoming more important than ever to make sure he was contained in the basement well before the full moon rose. Stan was fairly good at making up excuses for why he supposedly went to bed early sometimes (these old man powers were good for something after all), and so far Dipper and Mabel had bought them all. They always seemed a bit distracted whenever he brought it up anyway, seeming to have plans to occupy themselves already. That suited him fine. As long as they were safe upstairs, it didn’t matter what was happening.

The most Stan could remember in the mornings were vague, dream-like sensations. One thing he _was_ certain of was that it was never good. The occasional wreckage, vicious claw marks, and chunks taken out of machinery – along with feelings of anger and fear that persisted throughout the day afterwards – were enough of a testament to that. He didn’t know if it was miraculous or intentional that the wolf hadn’t actually done any major damage to the portal yet. Just how tough _were_ those claws?

He woke up sweating sometimes at the thought of what could happen if the kids ever discovered him like that.

Which was why he was currently cursing himself stupid for not realising what the time was.

It had dawned on him slowly that it was pretty dark.

Like the hand of a clock, more thoughts struck him, one after the other.

The kids had gone up to bed quite a while ago.

Last month it’d been the first time with the kids in the house, and he’d gone down to the basement early out of paranoia. Something had happened between then and now.

He’d relaxed.

And now he was lucky that the full moon wasn’t _already_ up.

 _Fuck_ didn’t come close to describing the situation.

That Ducktective show was _unreasonably_ addictive! He should have been locking the basement down ten minutes ago, with him inside! Why had he agreed to taking the kids? What had possessed him to do that? God, this was exactly the kind of stupid, impulsive thing he always did that ended up worse than he would have thought possible. If he transformed up here he’d wake up to fucking bloodstai-

He clamped down on that thought before he could finish it. If he didn’t, he might be sick.

Stan shot out of the armchair, propelling himself straight over the side, feet making a thump when they hit the floor that he hoped Dipper and Mabel wouldn’t hear. It was going to be fine, he had time, right? The vending machine wasn’t that far away, and moonrise couldn’t be _that_ soon, right?

He left the shag carpet behind faster than he’d moved in decades.

Besides, the kids were already upstairs. Who was to say _what_ the wolf knew? Even if he _did_ transform up here, it wasn’t like the wolf could, what, use some super-senses to sniff them out.

Shit.

That’s exactly what werewolves did.

But it wasn’t a problem, because the gift shop door was less than three feet away and he had _time._

“Grunkle Stan?”

_ShitshitSHIT._

He froze, his hand clutching the door handle to the gift-shop entrance.

_Just be normal, you have time, just get her to bed quickly._

“Yeah, sweetie? You okay?” He turned to look at Mabel, who was peeking around the living room entrance.

“Yep. Just getting Dipper some water.” To his horror, she came through and walked unconcernedly towards him.

“In a bowl?” He couldn’t help but notice, despite the situation.

“Um.” Mabel stiffened slightly and looked shiftily down at the crockery in her hands. “Yes. So . . . Waddles can have it when he’s done!” She looked up with a bright grin, then changed the subject quickly. “I just heard a thump and wondered if you were okay.”

“Uh, yep, yeah, just fine. No need to worry, all good here.” Holy fuck, Mabel was standing _right in front of him_. He tried his best to look like he wasn’t trying to push himself backwards through the wood of the door.

Then he ran out of time.

He didn’t need to see the soft light shining through the nearest window to know that the moon had risen.

Mabel said something about heading back upstairs. Yes, she should definitely do that. Stan would have been relieved but –

He felt growing pains hit every bone in his body, and his skin started to itch like crazy as hairs grew uncontrollably. A wave of dizziness and disorientation washed over him as his nose picked up smells he hadn’t even known _existed_ , and his eyesight started to dim. It was getting harder to think clearly, but nevertheless terrified denials and furious self-punishing thoughts spiralled around his head like a hurricane.

“Grunkle Stan? Are you okay?”

As he doubled over he felt Mabel’s small, cool hand on his arm. He clenched his jaw in a desperate effort to stop what would happen next. It didn’t matter.

“Your teeth are kind of . . . big,”

 _All the better to eat you with_ , hysterically swam through his mind as parts of it shut down and others reawakened.

Before his human consciousness faded completely, he shoved the girl away.

 

Mabel hit the floor with a grunt.

“Stan!” she said in disbelief, more hurt by the action than the scrapes left by the wooden floor. She managed to keep the bowl from smashing, but all the water splashed out – beside her, luckily.

She got to her knees, feeling more and more worried by the moment. Stan would _never_ have done that, not unless he was trying to save her from something _more_ dang-

His teeth really _were_ big. She could see them growing! They were getting pointier too, just like Dipper’s did when he –

When he Changed.

_Oh._

_My._

_Gosh._

This was . . .

. . . so . . .

. . . cool!

Dipper was going to be so _happy_ when he found out! He had someone like him! And it was _Stan_!

Her uncle was looking distinctly more wolf-shaped than human now. She winced as she saw a couple joints dislocate and relocate in new locations, saw bones elongate steadily but immensely, saw muscles grow and his body contort in a way that would be extremely painful if his brain wasn’t doing the same thing in a chemical manner, shutting off most of the sensations.

(Dipper had explained _all_ his theories to her.)

He was writhing uncomfortably on his side now. Her heart hurt for him, but she knew it would be over soon, and then he would be fine. The clothes probably weren’t helping his situation. Mabel crawled over and did her best to untangle him, ripping where she had to. Stan’s fur sprouted under her hands – grey, but still thick and soft like Dipper’s. She couldn’t _wait_ to hug him! She’d finally get to see how big a fully-grown werewolf was!

After a minute, it was over. His movements lessened as he recovered.

Stan slowly got his paws under him.

He rose up. And kept rising.

“Whoa.” she breathed, craning her neck. “Big fluff pup.”

She’d never seen a bear, but she imagined Stan wouldn’t be a lot smaller than one. He was _far_ larger than any of the dogs she’d seen.

She watched from her position curled by his side as Stan looked around the room. He breathed deeper than Dipper did, and he didn’t seem as excitable, either. She supposed that was to be expected though: Dipper was only a puppy, and closer to the size of a normal dog.

Eventually, he seemed to notice the small weight pressing into his hind leg. He looked down at her.

Mabel gave a little wave.

Stan was very still. He remained very still – so much so that he stopped breathing – as Mabel moved so she was face-to-face with him. Well, close enough, seeing as his snout was over a foot above her even when she stood up. His head slowly pivoted to follow her, unblinking.

“Hey Stan,” she said, unsure why she felt compelled to keep quiet.

She reached out to pet his chest. There was a low rumble coming from it. She bet it would feel really funny.

The rumble grew as her hand neared it. Closer and closer, louder and louder. Mabel’s smile faded a little.

When she was a few inches away, Stan growled. Her smile dropped completely.

“Stan . . . ?”

Stan bared his teeth and growled again, louder, a near-bark snapping out at the end of the sound. Mabel flinched away, gasping a little. The growl didn’t stop.

Stan put one paw forward, then another. What was he doing? What was happening? Dipper never did this. He looked like he was . . . there was no other word for it. He was _stalking_ towards her. The look in his eyes wasn’t familiar either.

Or . . .

Well, it was. Just not coming from her uncle. She usually saw it on wild animals in the forest, just before they tried to kill her.

She was backing away before she realised, mind racing. What could she do? Stan wouldn’t really hurt her, would he? It was Stan!

But was it?

That was never a question she had asked with Dipper, but this was crazy! He didn’t recognise her at all! Human emotions looked so, so wrong on this very _not_ human creature. She could see anger and suspicion, intensely warring and winning over some other emotion that she couldn’t discern, didn’t have time to discern, she had to do something, had to do something now!

The wolf came persistently towards her, snarling. Mabel stepped onto the carpet, pulse thundering in her ears. Stan’s eyes were fixed on her, coming more into focus with every passing second. They alighted on her –

“Jugular,” she whispered. It was one of Dipper's clearer memories from his first time transforming. The jugular was a target.

Her hands were shaking now, adrenaline pumping through her system. She so desperately wanted to run, the feeling was so intense it was like ice water had been poured into her veins, but she had a feeling that the only reason Stan hadn’t pounced yet was because she wasn’t making any sudden moves.

He barked, loudly. It might as well have been a gunshot, the way it went through her. She jumped violently, and tears sprung to her eyes. She needed a weapon, something, anything that was close –

To do what? Attack her uncle? She couldn’t. There was no way she could do that, not even if there was no other choice –

No other choice? Since when? This _was_ still Stan, even if he didn’t quite know it.

She knew that when she looked at him. _Really_ looked.

His eyes were the same brown as always. The same brown as Dipper’s. The same as hers.

She stopped backing away and stood determinedly in place.

Stan did as well, growl pausing for a second, cocking his head slightly in confusion. He was a werewolf. Adversaries were supposed to be afraid of him, after all.

Mabel could have smacked herself. _Duh!_ Stan hadn’t met her before! At least, not like this. No wonder he didn’t really know who she was, she was all . . . _new_ to him. She appeared different, because now _he_ was different. He thought she was a threat, an intruder or something. And her uncle wasn’t really the most approachable person to begin with. Once she thought about it, this wasn’t surprising at all. Dipper had been the same, albeit on a much less threatening level, but when it came right down to it, he hadn’t hurt her. So neither would Stan. She _knew_ it.

“It’s okay Grunkle Stan, it’s just me,” she said, making sure to keep her voice gentle and soothing. He hadn’t moved forwards again, so that was a good sign.

“It’s Mabel. You remember? We were just talking. I’m Mabel.” She lowered herself back to the floor, kneeling and slowly extending one hand. It wasn’t shaking any more.

“Me an’ Dipper are living with you.” She patiently explained. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

Stan stopped growling, examining her intently. She felt like cheering but managed to keep from dancing around. She’d save that for later.

“It’s okay . . . you’re safe,”

He padded cautiously forwards again, bending to smell her hand.

“You’re safe,”

After a moment, he nuzzled it. A broad grin burst onto Mabel’s face.

“Hi Stan,”

There was recognition in his eyes. Stan’s teeth were hardly bared anymore, but the little glimpse she still had of them vanished abruptly. He bent his head so she could pat him, not completely relaxed, but far less hostile than he had been moments ago.

Mabel giggled as she dug her hand into his soft fur. He was _so fluffy_! He butted her encouragingly, his head making contact with almost her entire upper body. He was being very careful, making sure not to do anything that might scare her again.

“Aw poor guy. You haven’t seen anyone in a while, have you?” She asked sadly. “It’s okay. You’re not alone anymore.”

Suddenly, Stan’s ears perked up, his head following moments later, gaze trained on the stairs. A second later, Mabel’s own ears picked up the noises he was hearing.

_Thudthudthudthudthud –_

Another eruption of barking, even more hostile than Stan’s had been. This was much younger –

Mabel’s eyes widened and she tried to call out but –

A dark blur flashed past, clearing the banister easily and leaping into the room. Dipper barrelled roughly into Mabel, knocking her aside with unexpected strength as he snarled and snapped at the other wolf, who was surprised into being driven back a step.

Stan quickly recovered and growled right back, starting forwards again. Dipper sprang in front of Mabel, refusing to let him any closer, snarling even more furiously, legs spread wide and body lowered to leap, not even letting up when his sister wrapped an arm around him to tug him back, frantically telling him to calm down.

“No, stop! It’s okay!”

Instead he shook her off, resuming his warnings, seemingly not realising how small he was in comparison to the other werewolf. He must have wondered why she was taking so long and come downstairs to check on her.

The bark Stan released this time was more of a boom. Dipper’s ears flattened for a single instant, but other than that, he gave no sign of backing off.

Mabel couldn’t say what was scariest about this situation: Dipper, Stan, the fact that they were on the verge of attacking each other, or the fact that she was caught in the middle. She was starting to cry again.

“Dipper!” she yelled, and –

Stan paused.

He looked between them both, taking in the boy’s protectiveness and the girl’s distress.

Taking in the closeness and familiarity they had with each other, despite their different shapes.

And made the connection.

Mabel saw the change immediately. His stance untensed entirely for the first time, his hackles lowering, his snarl cut off. He looked shocked, but also . . . well, soft wasn’t really a word she would often apply to Stan, but in this case, yes. There was a soft look in his eyes. Dipper saw the change too.

After some deliberation, Stan bypassed her brother easily by nudging his side strongly enough to knock him off balance, then by picking him up by the scruff of the neck. Dipper whined. Mabel was sure he would be saying something about that being unfair if he was human.

Stan moved over to the carpet in front of his armchair and deposited Dipper on it, giving him a familiar head-butt. Unsure at first, Dipper peered at Stan mistrustfully. Mabel waited with bated breath. More gently, Stan nosed him again. And that seemed to do it.

Dipper got the message that Stan wasn’t going to hurt anyone, and hesitantly returned the action. Stan gave him a lick, which the boy seemed pretty happy about, showing his tongue and even staying put while the large animal turned around to fetch Mabel, who was sighing with relief. He nudged at her insistently until she understood, virtually chasing her to the space in front of the armchair. She sat down giggling and watched as Stan circled, then lay down around them, pressing close as though touch-starved.

 _He probably is_ , thought Mabel. She wondered how long Stan had been shutting himself up for. That was one of the _many_ questions she would be asking him tomorrow.

Stan was pretty comfortable to lie on, Mabel decided. She was more than happy to do so, and snuggled in next to Dipper, half-hugging him. It was like she was encased in a fluffy bundle from all sides.

_Dipper . . ._

“You okay?” she asked her brother quietly. She’d never seen him so aggressive before. It was worrying, how readily he’d leapt into action. Plus, this whole . . . _reveal_ might have kind of shocked him. Was he okay after that?

He was already asleep.

They’d deal with it in the morning, apparently.

The sheer range of emotions that had flooded through her that night was making it pretty easy to drop off. She felt her heartrate slowing back down to normal, assisted by Stan’s deep, rhythmic breathing against her back.

Still, something far, far in the depths of her mind urged her not to sleep. There was a _threat_ nearby.

She immediately felt awful.

Not just because of the thought itself, but because it might have been what Stan was thinking earlier. No doubt he was feeling ten times worse than her, now.

Steady movements brought her out of an impending spiral of dark thoughts. A large head bent down and pressed gently against hers. _Everything’s alright._ Mabel smiled, believing it.

Stan nudged her again before she could drift off. He found the elbow she had skinned when he’d pushed her over before his transformation and sniffed it.

“It’s alright.” Mabel whispered to her uncle, hugging him. “You didn’t mean to.”

Stan huffed discontentedly and curled tighter around the kids, reassuring them as best he could.

_You’re safe._

She was asleep within seconds.


End file.
